Infinite

Chapter 10

The wind howled relentlessly against the glass on my window. I watched, sleepless, as it shook and strained its own edges. I had heard the clock strike midnight long ago... and though my body was ready for the hands of sleep to take it, my mind was wondering through fields of thought which were endless and full of brambles. Lightning cracked over the ridge of forest below, and the trees trembled with thunder. The manor, however, was quite still and peaceful. Its quiet hung in the air and reached every inch of darkness until even the demon within its walls was soundless.

The single candle set beside my bed flamed amazement. My eyes were drawn to its burning, and I sat up to look around its halo of light. It illuminated little space, yet the bit of the room it managed to tough was tainted golden. It flickered as though it were a living thing, and I though to myself how odd it truly was that such a little piece of flame was capable of burning a village to ashes. I reached for its brilliance, grasping the silver handle. Stepping onto the carpet below my bed, I held it out in front of me.

I crept down the hall; wooden floors creaking below my feet as I walked. My fingers brushed the cool wood of the banister as I descended the stairs. I saw a bright light glowing from the kitchen's doorway, and I knew Sebastian would be there, baking and preparing food for the day ahead. I willed my footsteps to be silent as I approached the soft sounds emitting the room as he worked. I set the candle down by the doorway, hovering just outside. I listened to him mixing batters and chopping fruits for no longer than a minute before he finally spoke up,

"I know you are there, young master."

I stayed silent and unmoving, wondering if he might invite me into his space.

"If you are not going to sleep, you may as well come sit so I can make you some warm milk."

My hand slipped away from the boundaries of the doorway as I stepped inside, silently making my way over to the island where a chair was already placed. I sat; manners lost for the moment as my elbows rested upon the used wood. I watched him as he lay a pot upon the already lit stove. He fetched the bottle of milk from the counter and poured a reasonable amount into the pot. I rested my head in my hands, the peace of his atmosphere overcoming my previous stress.

"Sebastian,"

I asked,

"When do you sleep?"

He turned back to his work; kneading soft, fluffy dough.

I watched as his forearms flexed with each roll and fold of the substance at hand; sleeves rolled up so his pale skin was exposed and gleaming.

"I do not."

"What?"


I asked again, curious.

"I do not sleep."

"Not ever?"

"No."


What a strange thing he was, really. He did not sleep, nor drink, nor eat, nor bathe himself (at least that I knew of). His existence was set up in such a way that one might believe he would transcend physical form... but yet, there he was... right in front of me.

I wondered how I had not seemed to ponder this subject before.

"Do you rest, then?"

"Why would I have the need to do that?"


He turned to me, brushing flour off of his perfect hands.

"Well... don't you tire? Don't you get weary and long for silence?"